


The Untold Stories

by Fumm95



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Misinformation, Morning Sickness, Pregnancy, Prompt Fill, Red Templars, Star Trek - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform, Tags and fandoms will update as I add more fics, The Princess Bride - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, betting pools, pet dragons, the cheesiest of cheese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of prompt fills from my tumblr. Will contain everything from pet dragons to modern AUs to parenting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drago (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon's prompt: one half of your OTP, inexplicably bringing home an animal and refusing to drop it at the shelter so they and the other half take care of it together

“No.”

“But-”

“ _No_.”

Still cradling the dragon hatchling, Evelyn pouted up at Cullen, who had ridden out immediately at Cassandra’s message that they had slain a high dragon and she had sustained minor injuries. “He’s harmless,” she protested, face lit with joy at the tiny creature in her arms. “And besides, technically, it’s our fault that he doesn’t have a mother anymore.”

That, at least, couldn’t be denied, not when the corpse of the mother was still lying where it had fallen a few days previously.

“The dragon attacked us first, if you recall,” Dorian pointed out, but the smile on his face as he watched the newly hatched baby squirm in her arms was enough to make Evelyn wink playfully at him, ignoring Cassandra’s groan of disgust from her other side.

“What possessed you to go hunting for it anyway? It could very well have been a trap, or something else that could have attacked you.” She shrugged, knowing full well that Cullen’s glare and scolding were more to disguise his worry than signs of true anger.

“Instinct?” she offered and heard Varric chuckle. “He’s too young to take care of himself! Aren’t you?” she cooed at the small form, which gazed up at her with bright eyes.

She watched as Cullen rolled his eyes skyward and grinned at him before tugging him down to sit beside her on the log. Her smile widened as he slid an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him.  “You’re impossible, you know that, right?” he whispered into her ear and she smirked before kissing him on the cheek.

“Yes, and you know you love it.”

He sighed, but she could hear the amusement in his tone as he murmured, “No, I love  _you_.”

Evelyn hummed with contentment. “I love you too.” She paused for a minute. “So, about the dragon…”

She felt him exhale heavily and laughed, twisting around to face him, the creature in question still curled up in her arms. She could see him relenting and sent him a pleading look. “Please?”

Cullen shook his head ruefully at her expression. “Fine, we’ll see how well it behaves during the trip back to Skyhold and decide then.”

She beamed at him before dropping her gaze back to the bundle she carried. “Do you hear that, Drago? You’re staying with us!”

“You named it already?” he asked in disbelief and she smiled at him sweetly in response.

As they prepared to return back to Skyhold, she thought she overheard Varric and Dorian debating the odds of Cullen actually allowing her to keep the dragon and she rolled her eyes at their tendency to bet on anything.

And when, a few days after their arrival back at Skyhold, Evelyn heard the rumors that Dorian had spent the past few days trying to find books on dragon-rearing and Varric had definitive proof that Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Inquisition’s Army had an inexplicable incapability to say no to their Inquisitor, she could only grin at the gray-colored dragonling that tagged along beside her.


	2. Alive (Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reading a red templar report, Esther assumes the worst, confirming Dorian and Varric's suspicions about her feelings for a certain Commander of the army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For trulycertain‘s prompt: Non-established relationship. Quiz hears Cullen has “died” (misheard/misread message, red templar misinformation?) and her utter freakout reaction reveals to her party how she feels about him (they hadn’t really suspected). They get back to Skyhold and he is very much alive, but things are now… awkward with her party. What’s the fallout? Matchmaking? Confessions? She manages to hide it?

The red templars  _really_  had to learn to hide their reports better. Esther smirked as she spied a scroll tucked partially out of view on a makeshift desk. It was almost insulting how little they regarded the Inquisition as threats, or perhaps how little they thought of her intelligence.

It seemed to be a report of some sort, and she nearly tucked it aside to be brought back to Skyhold for perusal before Cullen’s name caught her attention.

Frowning, she examined it more carefully.

_To Knight-Captain Paxley:_

_A message arrived from Darion yesterday. His men are in position to attack. If the general’s information is correct, then we can strike a blow directly at the Inquisition with none the wiser. Though the Inquisitor is currently away from Skyhold, Commander Cullen leads the army, and rarely leaves Skyhold. His death may prove to be enough to break the Inquisition, or at least severely cripple its power._

_Word of their attempt should arrive within the next day. Should the attack succeed-_

“Esther? Are you feeling well?”

She looked up from the suddenly shaking report, feeling the blood drain from her face. Cassandra was watching her with concern and she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she said brusquely, disguising her trembling by carefully tucking the parchment into a pocket.

The woman was speaking again but Esther tuned her out as she frantically searched the small space for another note. The report was dated from two days ago. There had to be some notification, some sign of whether or not Cullen was-

No, he couldn’t be. They would have heard something. Someone would have sent word. Unless… They  _had_  been constantly moving, and hadn’t thought to tell anyone they would be stopping at Emprise du Lion on their way back from the Exalted Plains. What if a note had been sent, but they had  _missed_  it?

She swore under her breath as her search turned up nothing, and turned back to her companions, all of whom seemed to be watching her warily from their position by the red templars they had killed…

Of course! Esther hurried towards the corpses and kicked one onto its back, rummaging through pockets without hesitation. Her friends were whispering above her, undoubtedly questioning her sanity, but the pounding of her heart drowned out their words. Growling with frustration when she discovered nothing, she turned to the next one and froze when she found a torn piece of parchment.

It was stained with blood and Maker knew what else, but the words “success” and “confirmation of death” screamed up at her, felt like they were burned into her eyes. Or maybe that was from the sudden pain in her heart, the one that told her more clearly than anything else that, oh Maker, in spite of both of their pasts, she  _cared_  for him and she would never get to  _tell_  him.

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat, barely noticing that her companions had fallen silent. “We’re going back to Skyhold. Now,” she announced, her voice trembling enough that Dorian reached out to take the small scrap of parchment from her.

“Who?” he asked urgently and she opened her mouth, only to close it again, unable to force the words out of her chest. Instead, she pulled out the report and pressed it into his hand before turning back toward where they had left the horses.

Esther heard a muffled “ _Fasta vaas_!” as she led their mounts back, but to her relief, other than a significant look whose meaning she could not decipher exchanged between Dorian and Varric, the trio chose to remain silent for most of the return to Skyhold, never complaining in spite of the quick speed she set.

When they stumbled into Skyhold four days later, a crowd had gathered, gawking at their unkempt appearances and haste. In spite of her exhaustion, Esther pushed by them with Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric at her heels, rushing towards the keep, wanting,  _needing_ , to speak to Josephine or Leliana or  _someone_.

The gauntleted hand that closed over her arm as she ran through the heavy wooden doors brought her to a stop and she openly gawked at the blond-haired man looking at her with concern. Cullen.  _Alive_. “I-Inquisitor, what-”

“You’re not dead,” she said foolishly, still staring at him in disbelief. Behind her, Varric chuckled, the sound full of relief as well as amusement.

Warmth flooded her as Cullen lifted a hand to the back of his neck, a nervous tick that she hadn’t realized she’d miss until she thought she’d never see it again. “Ah, no, I’m not. Is that… Uh, I mean, when did you return?”

Before she could formulate a response, Dorian spoke, his voice tinged with mischief. “Just now. Our Herald was  _extremely_ distraught when we heard that the red templars had prepared to ambush you while we were gone.”

Esther froze, certain that the blush on her face was almost as bright as the one on Cullen’s, but she forced a smile. “Well, the Commander is an incredible asset to the Inquisition,” she replied loudly.

Noticing the grin on Varric’s face as he moved to join the conversation, she gave a weak excuse and hastily retreated to her room, hearing the two roar with laughter behind her. Maker, she was never going to hear the end of it from them, was she?

And yet… She couldn’t help but smile. Alive. He was  _alive_.


	3. Across the Stars (modern!AU Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn decides to invite friends over to watch movies, but deciding which movie proves to be a bit of a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon’s prompt: Imagine your OTP is wrestling over the remote.
> 
> Not quite wrestling over the remote, but this idea wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it.

Cassandra could hear voices arguing from the hallway and nearly turned around before she even walked into the small apartment. When she had agreed to watch a movie with “a few friends”, she had not expected to find half a dozen people trying to cram onto two couches or sprawled on pillows across the floor of Evelyn’s tiny living room.

Spying Josephine and Leliana sitting on one of the sofas and watching the heated discussion with rapt attention, she moved to join her long-time friends, eyeing the arguing pair apprehensively as Evelyn swung her arm wildly to prove her point.

“I’m not saying that  _Star Wars_  is bad by any means!” the woman protested. At Cullen’s disbelieving snort, she glared at him. “I mean that! There’s nothing wrong with a coming-of-age story, but you have to admit that it has been done before!”

“Most stories have. If you take that argument, you could argue that about  _Harry Potter_  as well,” Cullen retorted, ignoring the aghast look on Evelyn’s face at the slur to what Cassandra knew to be her favorite book series. “Besides, the  _Star Wars_  arc as a whole is about Darth Vader and his redemption more than Luke. His character development drives the story much more than anything in  _Star Trek_  does.”

Cassandra sighed noisily as Evelyn opened her mouth to refute his argument and, noticing Dorian and Varric beckoning to her from their position by the DVD player, moved to join them, carefully skirting around the emphatically gesturing pair.

“If we leave them to decide what we’re watching, we’ll be here all day,” Dorian grumbled as he considered several movies. “Any preferences?”

“Oh, Cass,” Varric drawled and she narrowed her eyes at the nickname, “Josie has already started a betting pool. Care to join?”

“A betting pool?” she asked dubiously, the unexpectedness of the question drawing her attention from examining the movie options before her.

The shorter man smirked. “For when those two,” he nodded towards the debating couple, who had moved on to discussing the scientific inaccuracies of each universe, “realize that they’re perfect for each other and just need to kiss already.”

She glanced surreptitiously towards the duo, watching as Evelyn stepped closer to Cullen, jabbing a finger at his chest, and bit her lip in order to resist the urge to respond “within the next ten minutes.” Giving a groan instead, she turned to Dorian, who seemed to be distractedly considering the merits of watching either  _The Notebook_  or  _Pacific Rim_.

The man grinned at her when he noticed her attention. “Don’t bother, sweetheart,” he told her with a grin. “We all know you’d never be caught watching something as cheesy as  _The Notebook_.”

“Well, actually, if Leliana’s tale is to believed,” Varric interjected, eyes dancing with mischief, “our friend over here actually shed some tears at the end of _Titanic_.”

She glared at him, thankful that she didn’t blush easily, and made a mental note to warn Leliana to keep her mouth shut. “How about  _The Princess Bride_?” she suggested, nodding towards the case in question in a futile attempt to change the subject. “It’s a classic!” she protested as Varric’s grin widened.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Dorian winked at her as he started the movie, but allowed the subject to drop, and she returned to her seat, still glaring at the duo snickering on the floor as the introduction played.

After a few moments of watching Buttercup torment Westley with the backdrop of voices loudly discussing the extended universes of both  _Star Wars_  and  _Star Trek_  without pause, Varric had had enough. “Will you two either get a damn room or shut up and watch the movie?”

Their faces burned bright red as they obediently claimed the other couch for themselves, and Cassandra couldn’t contain her small, satisfied smile when, in spite of the darkness of the room, she noticed Evelyn lean against Cullen, their hands hesitantly linking together, as Buttercup and Westley kissed in the sunset.


	4. Drunken Love (Alistair/Warden)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annaliese Cousland discovers that Alistair makes a very affectionate drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt of "All I want is snuggles and kisses." This is ridiculously silly, I'm sorry.

Annaliese frowned, wondering where Alistair could possibly have sequestered himself in the few hours it had taken her to negotiate supplies from the nearest merchants. Feeling a little lost without his usual presence at her side, she wandered through the small village alone, more than a little irritated with herself for her dependence.

Recalling Oghren’s enthusiasm at the possibility of more ale, she paused at the door of the inn, the closest thing the tiny hamlet had to a tavern, and glanced inside.

Her lips curved up into a smile at the sight of the small crowd of people, all seeming to try and enjoy themselves the best they could in spite of the situation around them. Judging from the merry atmosphere, the inn’s occupants had all had several rounds before she arrived. A group surrounded one table, while others sat around with friends and family, talking and joking. The general cheerfulness of the environment was contagious, and she relaxed, walking in to lean against the wall with a grin.

A roar from the crowd drowned out the voices of the other patrons, and she watched, amused, as a serving girl appeared with a tankard of ale and a voice that was unmistakably Oghren’s bellowed for another challenger.

Her suspicions were confirmed when the crowd dispersed, following the dwarf as he shifted to another table, and leaving her missing fellow Warden sitting at the table, grinning blissfully at his surroundings.

When she approached, he turned the full power of his smile at her once his befuddled mind recognized her. “Anna! Did’ja see that? Oghren must’ve dranken - drunken- ” he cut himself off with a giggle, “had double the amount I did.”

“And you seem to be feeling every drop, while he looks just fine,” she informed him, laughing as her gaze fell on the cups. Was Alistair really a lighter weight than she was?

“‘Snot fair,” the man pouted. “Where’d he go, anyway?”

“Off to get someone else raging drunk, I expect. And you,” she said, catching his arm as he moved to get up, presumably to go after Oghren, “are coming back to the camp with me.”

“I don’t wanna go,” he whined, his expression adorably pathetic. “All I want is snuggles and kisses and you.”

“That can be arranged, if you come with me.” Annaliese bit her lip, barely fighting back a snort at the eager look on his face as she carefully levered him to his feet. Maker, he would regret his decision in the morning for sure. Still, she couldn’t fight the silly grin on her face as she led him out of the inn and back towards camp.


	5. Stare (modern!AU Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen is thoroughly distracted by Evelyn returning from the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon’s prompt of “Imagine person A of your OTP coming home from the gym all sweaty. Person B sees this and gets instantly turned on."
> 
> ...This is why I will never write smut.

Cullen checked his watch for the third time as he waited outside the door to Evelyn’s apartment, ignoring Dorian’s teasing grin as he lounged nearby. It was his own fault for trying to catch her with a surprise date, he knew, and there was nobody to blame for the rush other than himself. Yet he knew her schedule, knew that she had the afternoons off on Fridays, and that she typically spent the time at home, relaxing after a long week.

Turning to the other man, he opened his mouth, but was cut off before he could even speak.

“No,” Dorian drawled, amusement clear in his voice, “I  _don’t_  know where she went. Just because we’re neighbors doesn’t mean I know where she is at all times. She was gone by the time I got back.” In an undertone, though Cullen was certain he was meant to hear it, he added, “No idea why she isn’t around, though. She usually spends hours panicking on what to wear every time you take her out.”

He shifted awkwardly. “Well, this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, actually, so she doesn’t really know about it…” He paused as the man’s words sunk in. “Hang on, hours panicking?” It didn’t sound anything like the calm, collected woman who always met him at the door the moment he arrived, and he said as much.

Dorian snorted. “We must not be talking about the same person, then. She even went to Josie for help, after she told me I was completely useless.” His face must have displayed his confusion; the other man smirked as he added, “I told her that you wouldn’t mind what she wore, or even if she wore anything at all.”

To his intense relief, Dorian’s cell phone rang and he left to answer it, leaving Cullen sputtering alone, though the dark-haired man’s salacious wink as he departed did nothing to suppress the image of Evelyn that had risen, unbidden, in his mind.

Face burning, he checked his watch again in a futile attempt to distract himself, only to hear his name being called by the woman in his thoughts. “Cullen!”

He turned with a reflexive smile at her voice, only to freeze as his eyes fell on her. Evelyn looked so different from her usual appearance, with a sweat-soaked shirt and shorts with her hair tied back in a casual ponytail. Her face was still flushed with exertion as she grinned at him. “When did you get here? I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Ah, only a little while. I was, uh, hoping you’d be available for dinner, maybe?” He fidgeted slightly, trying to focus on anything other than the lithe form emphasized by the thin cloth hugging her torso, on the way his heart beat faster as she moved nearer to open the door, on a glistening drop of sweat that slid down the smooth curve of her throat and disappeared under her shirt…

“Yes, of course, though I’ll need a few minutes to get ready. Nobody should have to see me like this.”

“No!” he blurt out without thinking before catching sight of her raised eyebrow. “Y-you look lovely. I, ah, mean, you always look fine. Well, better than fine.” He groaned, swearing he could hear Dorian’s snorting from through his door.

Evelyn’s laugh was warm, cutting off his inarticulate stammering. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Oh, and Cullen?” Her eyes were dancing with mischief as she smirked at him. “My face is up here.”


	6. Expectance (Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Cullen find out that they are going to be having a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon’s prompt of “Your OTP Discovering they are going to become parents. Cullen/Inquisitor” and dedicated to all of the mothers in the Dragon Age fandom on Mother's Day.

Evelyn had the worst luck in the world. It was the only explanation she had for the sick feeling she got in her stomach that morning in response to being served an actual meal, rather than whatever rations they had packed for the trip. Of all times to feel nauseous, it had to have been when she awoke to the smell of eggs and freshly cooked meat.

Even when she finally joined the others around the campfire, following a long stop at the latrine and stream to wash up, she could only pick at her food, breathing through her mouth to prevent the strong aroma from overwhelming her. The carefully prepared eggs seemed to taunt her and she glared at it as the pang in her stomach competed with its churning at the thought of consuming any of it.

“Evelyn?” Cassandra’s voice was worried and uncharacteristically hesitant as she continued, “Are you feeling well? You have barely touched your food.”

She scowled at the reminder. “Don’t feel well,” she answered ungraciously, before realizing she was unfairly taking out her frustration at a concerned friend.

With a frown, the Seeker let the subject drop and Evelyn returned to pushing around her food until everyone else had finished, irrationally bitter at being unable to consume what was surely an excellent breakfast.

When Cassandra overruled her order to pack up and resume the march to Skyhold, she nearly snapped at the woman; it had been a month since she had last seen Cullen, the longest since they had first gotten married, and Maker, she was tired, hungry, and embarrassing though it was, her longing to be  _home_ was nearly enough to bring her to tears.

Promptly after, she found herself being marched to the nearest healer’s tent with the threat of informing Cullen of her state of unwell should she refuse. Cassandra’s smirk when she acquiesced was a clear sign that the woman had spent far too much time around Dorian and Varric for her liking, and Evelyn underwent the examination half-heartedly, mentally calculating how much the delay would affect their arrival.

The announcement caught her completely off-guard. “Pregnant?” She barely restrained herself from shrieking, though judging from the sudden murmuring outside of the tent, audible as she buried her face in her hands, it had been enough.

To her dismay, the news spread through the small camp with almost blinding speed, in spite of her best attempts to keep it private, and it showed; their travel speed dropped even more as the collective company did its best to ensure “she and the babe was delivered perfectly well to the Commander,” as one brave soldier informed her cheerfully.

None of them, however, had anticipated an anxious Commander riding out from Skyhold following their unexplained delays, expression thunderous as he demanded a private audience from “The Herald of Andraste.”

He led her aside, his glare severe enough to dissuade anybody from eavesdropping, and she followed silently, fidgeting as she observed him out of the corner of her eye. From their conversations, she knew he wanted a family, yet it had always been discussing a vague eventuality, after they had settled into their new positions, after Thedas had fully recovered from the invasion of a false god. Not something in the present. Maker, were they even ready? What if he didn’t want-?

“Well?” he prompted at last, anger mixed with worry in his gaze. “Any explanation for why the Inquisitor and her companions decided to delay their trip without any warning?”

She took a deep breath, clasping her hands together to mask their trembling. “Cullen, I- I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he stood stock still, and she held her breath, waiting for some response,  _any_  response, until-

“Cullen!” she shrieked, laughing, as he lifted her into the air with a whoop, whirling her around with a joy that she had not seen since she had agreed to marry him, a year ago.

He was grinning as he carefully set her back on her feet, arms still wrapped tightly around her. “I- you’re pregnant.” His voice was wondrous, reverent, and she laughed again, pressing against him tightly.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she confirmed.

The bliss on his face made her heart soar. “I love you,” he whispered, capturing her lips with a gentle kiss.

“I love you too,” she replied, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. Whatever happened, they would meet it, together, as a family.


	7. Drago (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drago accompanies Evelyn on a trip to Emprise du Lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For spirithwk, who requested I write Drago charging into battle with Evelyn.

When Evelyn turned around for the fourth or fifth time in as many minutes, she could practically  _hear_  Dorian’s eyeroll as he reassured her, not for the first time, “He’ll be  _fine_.”

She sighed, twisting back to watch their path once more. “I know,” she agreed slowly, but her feigned attempt at calm was terrible enough that even her horse could recognize her tension, if the fidgeting of her mount was any indication.

Judging from the whispering and suppressed laughter behind her, Dorian had made yet another bet with Varric, and she bit back a snide remark about still trying to make up for the one he had lost so spectacularly when she had first adopted Drago, several months previously.

Instead, she turned her focus back forward, towards the upcoming battle she was sure would ensue once they arrived at Emprise du Lion and found the camps that Cullen had mentioned were a primary source of red lyrium for Corypheus’ corrupted templars. They had all fought the templars before, though. All except…

Before she even had finished her thought, she twisted around again to check on the gray dragonling again, pointedly ignoring the gloating look on Dorian’s face as Varric passed him a few coins. Over the past months, Drago had grown rapidly. Though he was still nowhere near the size he would be fully matured, he certainly looked impressive as he easily ran along beside them, already double the height of the horses. Still, he was only a few months old, hardly ready to go to battle against Maker knew what was waiting for them.

Dorian’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Evelyn, you really don’t need to worry about Drago. The last time Bull thought it was a good idea to spar with him, he nearly got knocked out. Naturally, he thought it was hilarious, even after the amount of time we spent trying to patch him up.” This time, his words were definitely accompanied by an eyeroll, though Evelyn could hear the affection in the mage’s voice.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a spike of worry as they arrived in Sahrnia and dismounted to hunt the templars on foot. With his size and scales, he could likely defend himself better than she could, yet she still watched him carefully as he silently padded beside her, looking decidedly discontent with the chill of the air.

Distracted as she was, she never noticed the templar scouts hiding in wait, who ran out, weapons as soon as her group approached the mines. Evelyn froze, mind suddenly blank, as behind her, Dorian swore and threw up a hasty barrier. At the last second, she dove out of the way, weapon completely forgotten in her haste to retreat.

A roar sounded from behind her, and she dimly registered a flicker of fear cross the templar’s mutilated face just before a grey blur threw itself at him, knocking him back several feet. Heart pounding, she screamed as the man raised his sword, the blade glinting in the light, but the dragonling twisted easily away from the attack and clawed at the lyrium-encrusted warrior until he fell limply to the ground.

In a flash, Drago returned to her side, curling around her with a protective hiss as the rest of her companions tore down the rest of the templars and joined her. Mutely, Cassandra pulled her back to her feet, looking none too pleased, and she felt a wave of guilt at her own distraction during the skirmish. Mercifully, the woman said nothing and strode forward, leaving her to follow on unsteady feet.

“See?” Dorian’s whisper was a shout in the tense silence, but he grinned at her in relief. “I  _told_  you he’d be fine.”

Evelyn laughed weakly, reaching out a shaking hand to pat the dragon in question on the neck as he butted her gently in the arm. “Good boy,” she breathed.


	8. Just Once (Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther tries to convince Cullen to play Wicked Grace again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sentence prompt "Just once," as requested by the ever lovely mywordsflyup.

Esther studied the board carefully before noticing that her king was completely surrounded and pulled a face. “You win,” she sighed. “Again. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that it is good manners to let the lady win?”

The afternoon light seemed to illuminate his face as he grinned at her, the smile warm and relaxed in the gardens of Skyhold. “If I recall correctly, I did let you win the first time, but then you accused me of being too easy on you,” he teased in return.

She mock-pouted for a moment before sticking her tongue out at him. “That was before I realized that I was apparently playing with some chess master,” she retorted, though she couldn’t stop an answering smile from tugging at her own lips. “Here I thought I might have a chance of beating you some of the time. Then again, I suppose it is a good thing that the Commander of the Inquisition’s army should be good at a game of tactics.”

“Strategy,” he corrected gently. “Tactics are generally employed for smaller skirmishes and battles. Strategy is the overall flow of the-” Esther chuckled, watching with amusement as he cut himself off, red tinging his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Doubt I wanted a lecture?” she asked, grinning as she remembered the conversation from so many months ago, the first time she had seen a templar, former or not, get so passionate about anything.

Cullen shook his head ruefully, though judging from the distant look in his eyes, he remembered their words as well. “Well, you are certainly improving. All it takes is practice, really. Another game?” he suggested.

She hummed noncommittally. “Perhaps later, after my ego is feeling less bruised,” she joked, though the disappointed look on his face sent a stab of guilt through her. “But…”

“But?”

Esther barely repressed a smirk at the hopeful look in his eyes. “If you want to practice something, we could always play Wicked Grace,” she offered. The instantaneous look of horror that crossed his face sent her into peals of laughter.

“No,” he said immediately. “Never again.”

“Come on,” she forced out, struggling in vain to control her chortles. “Don’t you want to get revenge on Josephine?”

At the memory, his face turned so red she was surprised it had not yet caught on fire. “Not at the cost of my pride.” In spite of his blush, his eyes were amused as he watched her slowly regain control of herself.

“Aww, c’mon,” she coaxed at last. “Just once. It’ll just be the two of us. And I’ll go easy on you.” When he still looked unconvinced, she added, “We could start simpler. I’ll give you a kiss every time you win a hand.”

“Maker’s breath, woman,” he grumbled, though she could tell she had caught his interest. “Just once, then, if you are truly so eager in my learning the game.”

“Plus,” she added, eyes dancing, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you without your armor more often.” Winking at his sputtering, she grabbed his hand and towed him to her room before he could find an excuse to put it off.

And, if she had purposely let him win enough hands that one game turned into many more, if she coaxed him into raising the stakes from kisses to clothing before they got thoroughly engrossed in other, far more  _intimate_ , interactions, well, Esther certainly wasn’t going to complain.


	9. You're Not Useless (Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen reacts to the red lyrium at the Shrine of Dumat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon's prompt: "You're not useless."

Maker, the lyrium was  _everywhere_. Even from outside the shrine, Cullen had felt its call vibrating in his bones, singing in seductive harmony with the faint echoes in his blood, drawing forward memories of strength, of days without headaches and pains, of nights without nightmares. Of  _power_.

It was only Evelyn’s presence by his side, her steadfast determination to see the matter through, her trust and  _belief_  in him, that anchored him as they moved through Samson’s hideout, providing a constant mantra to counter the Siren song. Find Samson. Protect her. Block the blow from the behemoth. Stab. Slice. Block. Protect her.  _Protect her._

But Samson was gone, had long since fled, and Maddox had  _killed himself_ rather than betray him, and Evelyn was safe and looking for something to salvage from the fires that burned through the temple, and everything had fallen apart. Someone had tipped him off. He had been too slow, or too careless. Too scattered. Not fit to command.

Cullen struggled to draw a breath into his suddenly tight chest as everything fell away to the tantalizing promise of lyrium. No more headaches, no more nightmares, no more weakness. All replaced with power beyond measure, to carry out the Inquisition’s plans to its full potential, to stop Corypheus before he could destroy Thedas with his madness, to protect Evelyn from anything which could threaten her. To silence the quiet voice in his head telling him that it was wrong, it was all  _wrong_. It would be easy, so very easy…

“Cullen?” Her quiet voice cut through the haze, a cold dousing of reality, and the knowledge of what he had considered doing, what he had so very nearly done, crashed over him as nausea churned in his stomach. Breaking away from her gentle touch, he staggered away, retching, acid burning in his throat.

“Cullen!” The concern in her voice, in her eyes, the tenderness written on her face as she steadied him, made his eyes prickle with tears even as he turned away. So vibrant, so worried, so strong, even in the face of his weakness, his uselessness. Maker, he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve  _her._

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud until gentle pressure turned his head to look at her, to see the sincerity in her expression as she wrapped her arms around him. “You’re not useless,” she breathed.


	10. "If You Keep Looking At Me Like That..." (Cullen/Trev)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther and Cullen play strip Wicked Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sentence prompt “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed," as requested by the lovely QueenoftheProcrastination.

Esther could feel his eyes on her, studying her expression, and she carefully kept her face neutral, even as she grinned inwardly. Cullen really was terrible at Wicked Grace. Oh, he understood the concept perfectly, but when it came to analyzing the nuances of other people’s body language, to tell what was intentional and what wasn’t, and more importantly, to hiding his own reactions, he was almost hopeless.

Smirking, she called his bluff and he laid down his cards with a groan that would have made Cassandra proud.

“Your turn, Commander,” she told him, her voice crisp as she nodded towards the growing pile of clothing beside them, though she couldn’t stop her smile as he flushed when she cast an appreciative glance at his newly exposed chest.

“Another hand?” she offered.

At his nod, she dealt another round, ignoring the heat pooling in her stomach at the determination on his face, at the way his lips seemed to be curled into the smallest hint of a smirk, as if he knew of her distraction.

Still, her inattention cost her, and she sighed as she folded, resigning herself to her fate.

“Your turn, Inquisitor.” His voice mimicked the gently mocking tone she had employed earlier and she bit her lip as she slowly removed her own tunic, sensing his gaze drop from her face as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

“Cullen?” she called after a moment, unable to hide her grin as his eyes snapped back to hers, his cheeks reddening. Her invitation for another round died on her lips as she swallowed at the lust in his gaze.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed,” she murmured at last.

“Hang the bed,” he growled, his voice low, and she laughed as he stood, shoving the cards aside and pulling her forward roughly to capture her lips in a passionate kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> All ideas courtesy of the lovely people who sent me these prompts!
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr.


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